


A Cintran Welcome

by Llama1412



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Breast Fucking, Come Marking, Come as Lube, Crying, Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Emotional Sex, Face-Fucking, Gangbang, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Riding, Sloppy Seconds, Spitroasting, Throne Sex, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Geralt’s Witcher stamina is too much for Jaskier to handle alone, but he wants Geralt to experience being fucked to exhaustion. So he arranges a gangbang in Cintra.Featuring Geralt’s self–loathing getting overwhelmed with pleasure.
Relationships: Ermion | Mousesack/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Other(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 269
Collections: Polyamorous Relationships For the Win





	A Cintran Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [handwrittenhello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handwrittenhello) for the title suggestion!

As a witcher, Geralt knew that his stamina well outpaced the average human. Or even the above average human. Even with another Witcher, it would take quite a bit to truly tire Geralt out.

That was why Jaskier was bringing him back to Cintra. Since Geralt had stupidly claimed the Law of Surprise, he’d found himself spending a lot of time in Cintra, whether he particularly wanted to or not.

Admittedly, after Cirilla was born, Geralt protested their return trips to Cintra a lot less. It wasn’t like she deserved to be punished for his stupidity, after all.

This trip wasn’t about Cirilla though. The toddler was visiting the Skellige Islands with her other parents, but Geralt did always enjoy getting to see Mousesack. And, well – 

“I swear, Mousesack, I am  _ chafing,”  _ Jaskier bemoaned after Mousesack had invited the two of them into his chambers. “I mean, obviously the sex is fantastic, but even I am only capable of so many times.”

Mousesack looked over at Geralt with clear amusement written across his face and Geralt scowled. “I’ve already said this isn’t necessary.”

“And  _ I’ve _ already said that everyone deserves to be fucked into exhaustion at least once in their lives,” Jaskier dismissed without even looking at him. “Anyway,” he said to Mousesack, “I know you’ve indulged him before, so I was wondering if you'd be game. And if you had any ideas for other  _ indulgent _ people.”

Witchers couldn’t blush, but Geralt was fairly sure he’d be on fire if he could. As it was, his heart was already beating faster than usual and his ears felt warm. “I’m right here,” Geralt grit out, “and I definitely did not ask you to set up a fucking gangbang, Jaskier.”

Geralt almost wished he hadn’t said anything when both Mousesack and Jaskier’s intent gazes fixed on him and he had to hold back a shiver of interest.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jaskier asked.

...Well, it wasn’t like Geralt was exactly  _ opposed  _ to the idea of being fucked into exhaustion. But Witchers weren’t exactly a catch. Geralt doubted Jaskier could find enough people for his plan anyway. 

Geralt shrugged, gritting his teeth so that nothing embarrassing like “no, please continue” slipped out.

Mousesack’s mouth pulled up in a smirk and he gave Geralt a very obvious once-over with a heated gaze. “Oh, I’m sure I can come up with a few folks.”

Jaskier grinned. “Excellent.”

––

Geralt took a deep breath. Jaskier had told him to come to their chambers after dinner for his “treat”, and Geralt was – well, not nervous. Witchers didn’t get nervous. And there was no reason for him to be. After several years of visiting Cirilla, he knew most of the locals decently well. If any of them were – well,  _ interested  _ in a Witcher, then Geralt wasn’t opposed. 

He just didn’t want to open the door to an empty room. Just because he knew he was a hideous monster didn’t mean he needed it shoved in his face.

Geralt opened the door to see two entire people in the room – but of course, they were the two he expected. He firmly told himself he wasn’t disappointed. To be disappointed, he would have had to believe he deserved something better.

“Geralt,” Jaskier greeted him by draping himself along Geralt’s back. “Perfect timing. So, it turns out Mousesack knows – well, everyone.” Geralt’s brow furrowed. Surely the lack of anyone in the room spoke for itself. He wasn’t actually expecting Geralt to  _ talk _ about it, was he?

Mousesack brought a hand up to cup his cheek and Geralt had to force himself not to jerk away in surprise. “You are more loved than you realize, Geralt.” At Geralt’s dubious expression, the druid continued. “So many people were interested, we had to relocate.”

“…what?”

“You’re hot shit, Geralt,” Jaskier explained. Geralt did not feel any closer to understanding.

“I think, perhaps, you need to see it.” Mousesack pushed his fingers up into Geralt’s hair and combed through it. “If you still want this?”

Geralt nodded. Whether or not they were going to involve anyone else, Jaskier and Mousesack were offering to fuck him to exhaustion. Why would he say no?

“Good.” Mousesack’s smile made something warm spread in Geralt’s chest, and he could feel Jaskier pressing a soft kiss against the side of his neck. “Then we must go pay homage to the Queen.”

Geralt drew back in confusion, but Jaskier and Mousesack didn’t give him any more information as they led him to the throne room.

“Remember,” Jaskier said before they entered. “If you want to stop at any time…”

“I know,” Geralt said. He could get away with not forming actual words a lot with Jaskier, but in this specific area, he knew Jaskier would only accept verbal consent. It wasn’t even that hard anymore, for Geralt to force the words out of his mouth.

Words were hard, sometimes. A lot of times. That’s why Geralt’s  _ stop _ was nonverbal – a simple hand signal that Geralt could make with no thought if he needed to.

He had rarely needed to, but it was comforting, that Jaskier considered it so important. Geralt was used to his opinion not mattering. Who cared if the Witcher was comfortable?

When Mousesack and Jaskier pushed the doors open, the throne room was oddly crowded. It definitely wasn’t for an official event, though Eist stood proudly in his fancy event kilt getup next to the throne. But Queen Calanthe was sitting on her throne as if this were a typical day in Cintra and paid no mind to the fact that her tits were hanging out over her ornate leather corset. Or that she was wearing no other clothing, just the corset and her crown.

She looked over him with a heated gaze and Geralt found himself shivering. “Kneel, Witcher,” The Queen ordered, spreading her legs and Geralt suddenly caught sight of a large wooden strap on between her legs. He’d been incorrect; she was actually wearing her crown, a corset, and a cock. He was on his knees in front of her before he could think.

She gazed down at him approvingly, then twitched her legs further apart, as though asking why his mouth wasn’t occupied yet. Geralt forgot about his confusion over what was happening. All that mattered was getting his mouth on her wooden phallus.

He mouthed at the tip before pushing forward to take it down as far as possible. He glanced up at her, and the Queen grinned at him, though few others would recognize the expression as a grin. She gripped his hair close to the scalp, and sparks tingled across his skin.

“He likes his face fucked.” Mousesack’s voice said somewhere to his left. 

_ “Really _ likes it,” Jaskier giggled.

Because he was watching her, Geralt could see Calanthe’s eyes narrow at the audacity of a man suggesting anything. He was also pretty sure it was because she’d been about to do so, but now it would look like following instructions.

Geralt pulled back until his lips brushed against the phallus as he spoke. Then, eyes locked with hers, he murmured, “please.”

Her fist instantly tightened in his hair and she leaned her elbow back against her throne for leverage to thrust roughly into his mouth. Geralt’s eyes slipped closed as he was held in place and his chest rumbled with a choked moan.

He got lost in it – the weight of the phallus sliding along his tongue, the rough way it hit the back of his throat, the sharp prickling along his scalp with every tug of the Queen’s hand. Geralt only remembered there were other people in the throne room when Mousesack’s voice broke into his awareness again.

“Lift your hips, Geralt.” Geralt obeyed before his brain finished processing the order. “Eist, eat him out.”

There was a thump behind him and callused hands grasped his hips before pushing his shirt up to his shoulders and undoing his belt. Geralt gasped as his trousers were pulled over his hardening cock and a mouth licked a long stripe up his crack.

Geralt had already stretched himself in anticipation of Jaskier and Mousesack making use of him. But there was nothing like a mouth sucking at the rim of his hole or a tongue thrusting as far into him as it could go. He squirmed back into Eist’s mouth, but Calanthe’s grasp in his hair held him still. 

“Get him nice and wet, Eist. It’s all the slick he’ll get.” Mousesack said, and Geralt’s back arched.

Eist’s tongue was a marvel. It only made sense that the Queen would expect the absolute best from her companion. Eist had clearly applied himself to learning the best uses for his tongue, and right now, he was using all of that knowledge to make Geralt’s knees turn to liquid.

Eist tightened his grip on Geralt’s ass, spreading his cheeks further apart and holding him in place. Calanthe pulled Geralt down onto her cock, forcing his attention back to the Queen. She fucked his face roughly, holding him in place to grind deep into his throat. Geralt gagged around her and he loved the way she ignored it, just kept fucking into him with no care for his comfort.

“That’s enough.” Mousesack’s voice penetrated the pleasant haze in his mind. “He’s been patient enough. Fill his other hole, Eist.”

Geralt didn’t have the air to moan. He panted furiously through his nose, not wanting his mouthful to withdraw. Eist rose behind him, pulling Geralt around by the hips. He was entirely limp in their grasps, theirs to control. All he could do was  _ let them _ as the Queen and King of Cintra fucked him roughly.

Eist thrust into him fast and deep, and the rough fabric of the Skelliger’s kilt scratched against Geralt’s back, even as Geralt’s own trousers constricted tightly around his thighs as he tried to squirm back into the hard thrusts. It made him feel hot, that they couldn’t even wait to unclothe him properly before they had to fill him.

Eist’s hips started to jerk in uncontrolled thrusts and the King let out a deep groan and came inside Geralt, pushing his cum deeper with every thrust. Geralt squeezed around him, savouring the feeling. 

Calanthe pulled back and settled into her throne, ignoring Geralt’s whine at the loss. She made eye contact with Mousesack and cocked an eyebrow. Geralt didn’t see Mousesack’s response, his focus entirely on Eist slowly pulling out of him and the Queen in front of him.

“Sit on the throne, Geralt,” Mousesack ordered and Calanthe circled the base of her cock, holding it steady. 

His breath started coming faster, clenching tight to make sure Eist’s cum didn’t drip out of him. She wanted him to do the work, to fuck himself onto her cock on the throne, in full view of everyone here.

And even though it made his gut squirm with embarrassment, Geralt wanted it so badly. Eist pulled away from him with quick smack against his ass that made Geralt rock forward with a startled sound. As was probably intended, it got Geralt moving and he kicked his pants away and shucked his shirt. He bit his lip before turning towards the crowd, keeping his head down. He needed to have something to hang onto before he could feel ready to face his desire to be displayed while he was taken.

One of the Queen’s hands grasped his hip and guided him back until he could feel the smooth wooden tip against his rim. “Better hope you’re wet enough,” she murmured in his ear before biting his earlobe.

Geralt grit his teeth to hold back his moan as she slowly slid inside him. And then did nothing. She really was going to force him to do all the work, so he shifted until he could get his heels onto the edge of the throne. Calanthe’s fingernails dug circles into his hips and Geralt absently hoped he would bruise. 

Using his thighs and glutes, squeezing tight around the cock inside him, Geralt rose as high as he could, held steady by her grasp on him. She forced him to move slowly, until his legs were shaking with effort.

“Look at me, Geralt.” Mousesack said, and Geralt licked his lips before forcing his eyes open. And promptly lost his breath as he took in the sight. 

First, at the base of the throne, Eist lounged, looking up at Calanthe with soft, contented eyes. The rest of the throne room was filled with knights, all in various states of undress and every single one with eyes fixed on him as they touched themselves and each other.

Geralt shuddered, moaning roughly. 

He and Jaskier had started spending winters in Cintra after Geralt had called the Law of Surprise, and it hadn’t taken long for Geralt to need to fight. The Cintran knights had been tentative around him first, remembering clearly how easily he’d downed several of their ranks. But slowly, starting with just one or two of them lingering around when he ran drills, the knights began to make an effort include him. By now, he knew each of them well, including their weaknesses and their kindness. Jaskier liked to say they considered him one of them, but he hadn’t really believed it until this moment.

Under his gaze, Tiffany jerked against her fingers and came with a gasp. When Geralt’s cock twitched at that, Isaac moaned roughly. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Yvonne moaned, riding Roger backwards so they could each watch Geralt.

Geralt whined quietly. He was fairly sure his legs were going to give out at any moment, and he hated to ruin things by asking for a break. But Jaskier trusted him to signal  _ before _ he collapsed, so Geralt caught his eye and signaled.

“Stop,” Mousesack said and everyone immediately froze, which was the opposite of what Geralt wanted. He let himself drop down onto Calanthe’s cock, groaning roughly. But now that he was off his legs, his weight held up by the Queen, he felt able to signal,  _ just needed a position change. Move! _

Jaskier huffed a laugh, and Mousesack let everyone move again. The Queen gripped his hips and lifted him on her lap in short, deep thrusts.

“Touch yourself, Witcher,” she ordered and Geralt wrapped his fingers around his cock, letting his head fall back at the sensation.

“Gorgeous,” Emerick’s voice said from surprisingly close, followed by a loud moan. The spatter of wet cum against Geralt’s chest had him coming over his fist and slumping limp against Calanthe.

“Lay him down,” Mousesack directed, “and then anyone who gets close enough can touch him however they want.” The excited murmurs made a tired smile pull at Geralt lips.

Eist rose and then the Queen and King laid him out on the Queen’s war table. The knights drew close, hands stroking through his hair and down his flank. Geralt kept his eyes closed as he panted for breath. He could feel two people straddling his thighs, thrusting lazily through the mess. Another two cocks nudged against his hands, and Geralt eagerly wrapped his fingers around them.

“You’re doing so good,” Eyrk, a knight with the bad habit of dropping his left, said. 

A hand stroked through his hair, “So beautiful.” This voice belonged to Lazlo, the knight second in command. Geralt made a soft sound in his throat and leaned into the touch.

A mouth kissed the most prominent scar on Geralt’s bicep, and the Knight Commander, Danek, murmured against his skin. “The world has been so cruel to you, and yet, you still manage to be kind.”

“Good,” another knight continued.

“Noble,” one of them kiss his chest, right above his heart.

“Honorable.” This word was whispered against his neck and he shivered as breath tickled over sensitive skin.

“You have so much love to give, don’t you, Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was right above him, and he knew the callused fingertips that dragged down his jaw almost better than he knew himself. “Are you ready for more?”

Geralt nodded, signing his yes. 

“Move Geralt to the edge of the table,” Mousesack ordered, and Geralt was shifted and angled until his hips and his head hung just off the edges. “Percival, Lazlo, fill him.”

Geralt’s mouth fell open automatically, and Percival ran his fingers over Geralt’s jaw. “Always thought you had a gorgeous mouth. Made for sucking cock.”

Geralt hummed in answer and stuck his tongue out to try to touch the cock just out of reach.

Percival laughed and finally pressed his cockhead against Geralt’s lips. With Geralt’s head back like this, Percival was able to slowly thrust in until his balls pressed against the Witcher’s nose. Geralt swallowed deliberately around him and felt someone – he wasn’t sure who – press a hand over his throat, feeling the way Percival’s cock thrust into it. 

Geralt squirmed, his cock hardening again. Someone wrapped their fingers around Geralt’s cock in a tight squeeze, then pumped him slowly.

“Fuck, but your cock is lovely.” Geralt recognized Raolin’s voice. “Think I can ride him while you fuck him?”

“Worth a try,” Lazlo chucked from between his legs. “So convenient that you provide your own slick.” He used Geralt’s own cum to ease the way as he thrust deep inside Geralt’s used hole all at once.

Geralt’s back arched but caught between the knights, there was nowhere he could go. Raolin slung his leg over Geralt’s hips and soon, his cock was surrounded in  _ hot _ and  _ slick _ and Geralt realized that Raolin must have used Geralt’s cum as lubricant too. Geralt jerked his hips up into the warm hole and then back onto the long cock that drilled into him. He had no leverage, couldn’t do much more than wiggle back and forth, but the knights rewarded him with chuckles.

“So eager,” Danek said somewhere to Geralt’s left. When one of the cocks in his hand came over his fingers, someone grabbed his hand and fitted it around a new cock. Geralt squeezed, luxuriating in the pleasure that pulsed up his spine and consumed him.

Lazlo’s thrusts brushed against that spot inside Geralt that made fireworks go off behind his eyelids, and Geralt was suddenly coming inside Raolin. The knight made a high needy noise and because Geralt stayed hard, rode him even harder.

Geralt whimpered around the cock in his throat, oversensitive and yet never wanting it to stop. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and he gasped for breath around Percival’s cock, sucking frantically.

“How many times do you think Geralt can come?” Mousesack asked casually, and Geralt felt dizzy with want.

“Enough that it will take all of us to milk him dry,” he heard Jaskier giggle and fuck, he craved that so badly.

“Good.” Geralt could hear Mousesack’s smirk in his voice. “You know what to do, men.”

“We’re gonna take such good care of you, Geralt.” Danek said, voice closer to him now. “You want to be covered in us, don’t you.”

It was a good thing Geralt couldn’t nod, or he’d be bobbing his head desperately. Hands squeezed his pecs and Geralt moaned when rough thumbs flicked over his nipples. 

“Always wanted to see if I could fuck your chest,” Danek climbed over his chest as he spoke. “These tits are a perfect handful.” Then he squeezed them together and Geralt could feel a wet cockhead force its way through the channel his pecs created. 

Geralt arched his back to push his chest out further and Danek rewarded him by twisting his nipple.

“Who wants to bet on how many times we can make him cum?” A knight named Isolde who liked to pretend she was a bookie, asked.

“Six,” Leon voted.

“Nah, five.” Tristan said.

“Nine,” Jaskier said confidently. “But we’re going to get him off ten times.”

“I’ve never seen a dry orgasm before,” Thom said, and a finger pushed into his hole alongside Lazlo’s cock. 

Geralt’s cock jerked inside Raolin. “Oooh, he liked that. You want to be stretched wide around more of us, Geralt?”

A hand stroked his cheek and Geralt didn’t know who it belonged to, but it didn’t matter. All of them were taking care of him and Geralt wanted them to wreck him. 

He felt desperate, tears overflowing from his eyes, and embarrassment made him squirm, but he was held still. Kisses were pressed against his cheeks, his closed eyes, his forehead and suddenly shame was drowning under the warm rush of affection. These people cared about him. These people knew he was a monster, and they still cared.

“Lazlo, don’t come yet. Thom, see how wide you can stretch Geralt. If you get him loose enough, you can fuck him with another cock alongside,” Mousesack said, and Geralt moaned around Percival’s cock.

Percival grasped his jaw, forcing Geralt deeper onto his cock. Percival’s hips jerked in short little bursts and then he pulled out to come over Geralt’s face and neck. Geralt gasped for breath, feeling cum slide down his face. He snaked out his tongue to get a taste and no sooner had he opened his mouth again than another cock was forcing its way inside. His moan wasn’t vocal, but the knight making use of him could feel the vibrations. Geralt took a deep sniff, his nose tucked against the knight’s perineum, and he identified them as Jacques, the Toussaint transplant who liked to share his wines and fancy cheeses with Jaskier. Geralt sighed in contentment and enjoyed Jacques thrusting long and deep into his throat.

Raolin squeezed tightly around Geralt’s cock as he came, painting Geralt’s stomach and probably Danek’s back where he was thrusting between Geralt’s tits. 

“Dibs on riding him next,” Symone called.

“Let me suck him first, please?” Derrick begged.

“Is it weird if I come on his hair?” Geffrey’s voice was breathy and he was clearly on the cusp of coming. Geralt honestly didn’t mind if the knight did choose his hair – the rest of him was already getting filthy. It seemed only fitting.

“Think I want those tits,” Brom said.

Geralt’s mind started losing track of the names the voices belonged to, but all that mattered was the way they all wanted him.

“His hands are so gorgeous. Have you seen them wrapped around his sword?”

“Right? Fuck, I get hard just watching him sharpen them.”

“I wanna eat him out. After he’s filthy and used and full, I want to lick it all out.”

At some point, his cock was engulfed in something hot and wet and Geralt’s head felt so hazy, he couldn’t even tell if is was a mouth, a cunt, or an ass. Whatever it was drew off and then slid slowly back down. Against his chest, Geralt was fairly certain someone had replaced Danek, mostly because someone’s cum slicked the way for their cock. He could no longer keep track of who was who by scent – the smell of lust and sex and cum was heavy, but underneathe it, what he could smell was that it was  _ him _ who smelled of too many people to sort out and he loved it.

In his ass, four fingers pushed in next to the cock and Geralt hoped that Mousesack would give him more before long. He could take that, could satisfy his knights in this way. He wanted to bring them pleasure and he was so good at being a messy hole.

“So good,” someone affirmed, and Geralt realized he’d been whining quietly around the cock in his mouth. “You just want to be used, don’t you? Used until we’re all satisfied, until you’re absolutely drenched in the evidence that you belong to us?”

Geralt’s eyes flew open and his back attempted to arch as he came. Whatever was surrounding his cock milked him through it – and then kept going, kept sliding up and down his cock. He cried, cheeks wet with both tears and cum, but he didn’t want it to stop. Someone came in his ass, but before he could mourn the absence, another cock was sliding in. His hole gaped around the cock, after taking a fist next to a cock, but he wasn’t left waiting for long. A wet cockhead pressed against his rim and pushed in steadily.

“You’re forcing us to get creative with positioning,” a knight said.

“We’re all a bit desperate, it’s kind of pathetic. But we’ve wanted you for so long, and you’re  _ letting _ us–” the words trailed off in a moan and Geralt felt hot cum spray across his calf.

“But you like that we’ll take anything of you that we can get, don’t you?”

“You like that we’re so eager for you, we’ll rub off against anything we can touch.”

One of the cocks in his hands spurted over his fingers. When his hand was free, Geralt spread his fingers in a quick stretch and then deliberately formed them into a hole. His offer was taken quickly, and he felt someone else straddle his upper arm and a wet cunt ground against the muscle there. 

“You’re so gorgeous covered in us.”

“We should make this an initiation ritual. Bring pleasure to our White Wolf.” 

Geralt whined and the cock in his mouth jerked. Cum flooded his mouth before the knight pulled out and directed his cockhead over Geralt’s jaw, his cheekbones, his brow. 

“‘Add your scent to the cum bucket’,” one of the knights in his ass chuckled. “You love being covered in us, don’t you?”

Geralt couldn’t form words, but eager sounds spilled out of his empty mouth. 

“Shhh, precious one. We’ll fill you up again, don’t worry.”

And true to their promise, another cock slid down his throat. One of the cocks in his ass came, but the cum never had a chance to escape as someone else was replacing them, this time with a ribbed wooden cock. 

Geralt wasn’t sure how many orgasms this made, but he knew that the number had to be high, because only a small dribble escaped his cock. He knew this because the knights giggled about it.

“We’re going to drive you completely dry, Geralt.”

“We’re going to overwhelm you with such pleasure that you’ll pass out. But we’ll keep using you, keep wringing pleasure from you. Would you like that?”

Geralt frantically freed a hand to sign  _ yes, yes, yes. _ Fuck, that was everything he wanted, to be used and loved, even when he was useless and unconscious.

“Very well,” Mousesack’s voice was recognizable, even through the sea of pleasure his mind currently was. As was right, of course. That was why Jaskier had brought him here – because Mousesack had always known how to take care of Geralt. “We’ll use you until we’re satisfied.”

Geralt hummed in contentment and let himself float away on the waves of pleasure in his mind.

––

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the absolute relaxation suffusing his body. He was surrounded by warmth and his muscles had quite literally been fucked into exhaustion.

He breathed in, and even though he could feel that his skin was clean now, he still smelled like all of them. When he opened his eyes, he found that he was cuddled between Mousesack and Jaskier, but all of his knights seemed to be laid about somewhere nearby, as Geralt caught glimpses of limbs and heard the loud snoring of more than a few knights.

“Well?” Jaskier asked in his ear with a low voice. “Did it live up to expectation?”

_ More than,  _ Geralt signed lazily, pressing his fingers against Jaskier’s flank to communicate the sign. 

“Good,” Jaskier kissed his forehead. “Told you I could find a way to manage your stamina.”

A smile tugged at Geralt’s lips. Yes, he had. And if that meant he set aside time in Cintra every so often to get absolutely ruined, well they already wintered there anyway. What was one more trip?


End file.
